Stiles was babbling pleas by this point, trying to come up with anything to appeal to the woman's humanity. Even if Isaac could find his voice right now, he knew it would be a waste of time. He had begged his father numerous times to stop hitting him, stop locking him up, please love him, but it never worked. If anything, it egged the man on to get worse. If Isaac couldn't appeal to the ingrained love a father had for his son, he knew this woman wouldn't be swayed.
"Oh, this is gonna be so easy. Look how quickly you're breaking," the woman giggled, petting Stiles lightly on the head. Isaac glared at her, used to the disgusting signs of a true sadist. She was probably enjoying herself enough that it wouldn't really bother her if she ended up with two dead boys and no information. It would still be a win in her book.
And that's all they were, weren't they? Boys. Stiles a bit more than him now, but still not technically men. Boys that should be worried about school, and summer jobs, and asking someone to prom. Not fighting for their lives on a weekly basis. Not strung up in a warehouse with a knife wound and broken bones. And Isaac knew he signed up for this life when he chose to receive the bite, but he was desperate. Who could blame him for trying to escape a lifetime of abuse by any means necessary? But this was too much.
"You're so scared, you poor thing. Look at what happens when you hang around these monsters," the woman scolded lightly, massaging at Stiles' shoulders. He looked like he was about to throw up and Isaac couldn't blame him. The thought of the fake affection being forced on him was making his skin crawl.
"You're the monster," Stiles muttered, crying out when the woman grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head up. Isaac flinched at his sound of pain. If that was his reaction at seeing Stiles in a little bit of peril, he could just imagine how Stiles felt looking at him. They might not be the best of friends, but seeing someone hurt while you were powerless to stop it was torture in and of itself.
"Wow, you really haven't learned to watch your mouth," she scoffed, rolling her eyes back up to the big man. "Teach him to watch his mouth."
"No, wait! I'm sorry I'm sorry, please!" Stiles stuttered, guilt coloring his features. Isaac was going to have to pay for his mouth, again. He knew Stiles' default was to babble, but he knew the boy could reign it in when necessary. It was very necessary right now. The giant man started walking a slow circle around him, as if contemplating where to hurt him next. Hello psychological torture, it's been a while. After a couple minutes of this, Isaac was practically aching for the physical pain. Anything to get rid of the anticipation. He was torn between wanting to close his eyes to try to escape it, to being unable to, not willing to let himself be caught off guard. Stiles was still whispering broken pleas, never giving up on the humanity of people. But there was no hope here.
The man eventually settled again behind him, placing his baseball glove sized hands on Isaac's shoulders. Isaac couldn't suppress his whimper as the man steadily applied more pressure, weighing him down and pulling on his already ruined wrists. Isaac could feel his skin start to peel back, the handcuffs digging deeper into the veins and tendons. He sobbed when the man finally took his hands away, but the relief was short lived. The hand on his left shoulder was suddenly back, squeezing without much effort and snapping his collarbone. Isaac and Stiles shouted at the same time, Isaac's vision going white.
He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this. The panic he had been trying so hard to hold off was squeezing his lungs in a vice. He couldn't do this. All of the air in his body was gone. There was no air left in this room. He couldn't do this. The walls were closing in, leaving him locked away where he could never get out. He was going to let everyone down and Stiles was going to die and it would be all his fault and-
The cold water was actually helpful, pulling him out of his panic attack. But the renewed shaking due to the chill was agony on his shoulder. The pressure it was under to hold him up was excruciating, the bones scraping each other with every shallow breath he was taking. Isaac wanted to curl into a ball in the corner and weep, to hell with what other people thought of him. He had always been a little quick to show his emotions, the tears coming whether he wanted them to or not. But he had learned how to cry quietly, to hide it from anyone that might hear him. Right now, he felt like screaming and wailing.
"Let me give you boys a minute to collect yourselves. Maybe strategize to figure out which of you will do the right thing and give me what I want," the woman said, striding toward the exit. She paused before she left, poking at the displaced lump of bone in Isaac's shoulder. He gasped at the stinging pain, moaning through the revived waves of discomfort. He finally let the tears fall when he heard the door close behind her, the only sound left in the room being his quiet sniffles.
"I'm so sorry. This is all my fault," Stiles whispered, sniffling a little himself. Isaac just hummed in agreement. He wasn't in any position to reassure anyone. "What do we do? We can't tell them anything, but I can't just watch you die." Isaac wanted to tell him that yes, he could. His life was not worth endangering the safety of the entire pack. Of all of them, his death would be the easiest for the group to bounce back from. If he ever made it to senior year, his quote would probably just be the word "expendable."
Isaac accepted that he was never destined for glory. He'd never even strived to be anything but okay. Anything had been better than dying alone, locked in a freezer in his basement to be forgotten forever. If he needed to sacrifice his life for the good of his pack, he'd do it without hesitation.
"S'okay," Isaac mumbled, his voice cracking over the word. It was okay and Isaac wanted to proclaim it with strength and pride, but he just sounded defeated. He couldn't muster up any more.
"It's not! You can't give up!" Stiles insisted, sounding angry. Isaac used up a bit of energy to crack open an eye to look at the other boy. "Fuck you! Are you really gonna quit? What happened to the tough guy who was always ready to fight?" Isaac let out a breathy chuckle that sounded more like a sob, closing his eye again. That guy wasn't real and Stiles was screwed if he had counted on him.
"S'not me," Isaac choked out, feeling the fatigue pulling him down.
"No, no, I'm sorry! I was trying to give you one of those pep talks like Coach does!" Stiles stammered, sounding immensely guilty.
"D'nt work," Isaac chuckled, although he did feel a little bit of the tension leak out of his body.
"We have to do something. I can't stand watching this anymore," Stiles whispered, biting his lip in concentration.
"All you have to do is answer my question," the woman said, breezing back into the room. "Which, might I add, you haven't even given me a chance to ask yet." She bumped into his side again as she passed, making him swing more aggressively.
"Fuck!" Isaac ground out, the pain giving him a sudden surge of energy. He growled at her through the pain, the wolf inside of him begging to be freed.
"Ooo looks like the dog's got a little more of his bark back. Too bad he can't bite," she laughed, stepping forward to crowd into his space. It was kind of ridiculous, how she only came up to about the middle of his chest. But he was still screwed as long as he was strung up like he was.
"Let me down and we'll see if I can bite," Isaac seethed, giving her a lopsided smile. He stared into her eyes as best he could, showing that while he might die, he wasn't going to be submissive while he did it. He was so distracted by his little battle of wills that he didn't realize the huge man was behind him until after another one of his fingers snapped. The woman cackled at his grunt of pain, bopping him on the nose. Stiles was right. She was a bitch.
Isaac hadn't killed anyone yet and he was hoping to keep it that way, no matter what he said to try to look tough in front of people. But he didn't think he'd have any qualms killing this woman. It would be completely justifiable after all this, but would his eyes turn from Beta gold to killer blue? She was human, as far as he knew, but would she be considered innocent? He didn't know if he could stand being branded with the eyes of a killer for the rest of his life. If people didn't know his story, all they'd think was that he was a murderer. But he was getting ahead of himself, since most likely it was him who would end up dead after all this.
"I think I like you just how you are," she purred, moving back to stand in between them. Isaac could feel the man behind him breathing down his neck. "I feel like it's time to get down to business." The man suddenly grabbed Isaac's hand, breaking the rest of his fingers on his left hand in quick succession. Isaac couldn't hold back his scream this time, partially from surprise, but mostly from pain. Stiles was shrieking some of the most colorful language he had ever heard, which was kind of like a balm on his frayed nerves. But it wasn't enough to completely block the pain. The whole left side of his upper body felt like it was on fire, from the broken fingers, to the still bleeding wrist, all the way down to his throbbing collarbone. Isaac couldn't remember a time he felt more terrible.
"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" the woman laughed, staring at Stiles in a little bit of disbelief. Stiles' jaw snapped shut at those words, his mind probably going to the same place as Isaac's. Was she just saying that because it was a common saying, or because she knew personal details about them? They already knew that Stiles was human and Isaac was a werewolf, and that they ran in the same pack, but what if she knew more? Isaac didn't have anyone to worry about who wasn't already pack, but Stiles did. Scott did. If she didn't get the information she wanted from them, who would she go after next? They needed to survive this, even if it was just long enough to warn the others.
